Three Minutes and Twenty SecondsThree Minutes and Twenty Seconds


This is the story of how I met my wife.

Thomas Jefferson High… That’s where I went to school. We were a little over halfway through our junior year when my wife and I first met. That’s when fate first fell into my lap. Oh that fickle finger of fate. I suppose most guys owe the meeting of their wives to fate. It certainly played a role in mine. Yeah, a King Kong sized role.

Of course I knew who she was long before we actually met. Her name was Jeannie Bowman, and everyone knew who she was. Jeannie was that exceptionally pretty cheerleader with a bounce in her step and an amazing smile. She was a star gymnast, and on the student council. She had the lead role in nearly every school play, and she helped plan every dance and rally.

From where I sat, it seemed like Jeannie practically ran the place. Okay, so she didn’t actually run the school, but somehow she managed to be involved in almost everything. To say she was popular is an understatement. She was the queen of the school, and it’s sad to say, I was another one of the dorks. I am certain Jeannie had no idea I even existed. Not until that fateful day anyway.

I was in gym class the day that fate stepped in. Or more precisely, I was avoiding gym class. I always tried to avoid gym class.

I’m not sure why I tried so hard to avoid gym. It could have been that an odd late growth spurt had made my gym shirt way too small. Or maybe it was the fact that I was incredibly awkward and uncoordinated, due to that same late growth. Or it might have been how I could barely see through the dorky strap-on sports glasses my mom insisted I wear so that I wouldn’t break my so called good pair… Whatever the cause, I really hated gym.

So like I said, I was trying to avoid gym class. I was there. Actually in the gym that day. I was even what the coaches called ‘dressed out’; which amounted to a pair of shorts in the official school color, that shirt that was three sizes too small, and a pair of Chuck Taylors my mom found at a yard sale. Yeah I was there… but I was doing everything I could to disappear so I wouldn’t have to play whatever flavor of dodgeball that Coach Garett had come up with that day.

Of course we didn’t always play dodgeball, but no matter what we played I always ended up getting hit, smacked, tripped, tackled, or otherwise slammed to the floor. So in gym I always just tried to blend into the walls. And if ever there was a day to blend into the walls, this particular day was the one.

Like most high schools, there were separate gyms for boys and girls at Jefferson. Well sort of. The separation of our boy’s and girl’s gyms came by the way of a movable wall that could be pushed aside for school dances and basketball games. And that fateful day, the movable wall between the two gyms was wide open.

Coach Garett had done his best drill sargent routine and barked out strict orders that all of us boys were to stay on our side of the gym, and I am sure the girls had been told the same. That didn’t mean much to me. No one had to cross that invisible line for the girls to be able to see me. The last thing I needed was to pull one of my famous dork moves and plant my face on the floor with all of those girls watching.

I wasn’t worried though. I had a plan that day. There was a big space behind the bleachers, next to the emergency exit. This space was usually filled with gymnastics equipment, volleyball nets and stacks of gym mats. Most days I would hide behind those mats until gym class was over, then I’d run out and act like I was exhausted from playing whatever game it was that Coach Garret had ordered.

So this particular day I made a bee line to my hiding place, and everything was going according to plan. Then these three football jocks came along. These muscle headed morons grabbed me and shoved me out of my hiding place. Right out into the open. Right into the girl’s side of the gym. Yes, the very place that Coach Drill Sargent had clearly ordered us all to stay the hell out of.

I had to get out of there. I couldn’t be seen on the girl’s side of the gym. If the coach saw me he’d probably have me doing pushups and washing jock straps for the rest of my life. I immediately looked back toward the stacks of mats to see if I could find other place to hide. All I could see was those jocks huddled down in my space exchanging money.

I may have been a dork back then, but I still knew what was going on. Those jocks were doing some kind of a drug deal. One of the jocks saw me looking at them and yelled, “Turn around dork.” Then another one ordered me to look the other way as he shook a clenched fist at me, clearly offering to hurt me if I didn’t do as I was told.

Not wanting to get my ass kicked, I quickly turned my back to them and found myself standing right in front of none other than Jeannie Bowman. She couldn’t have been more than 10 feet away, and she was looking right at me. My god, she was pretty. Unlike mine, her gym uniform fit her perfectly. She looked like Antalya Escort an angel, and she was smiling at me.

The next thing I knew, I felt my gym shorts being ripped down from behind. Then I heard the jocks laughing hysterically as they bolted out through the emergency exit.

Okay, now I had a problem. A huge Godzilla sized problem. Earlier that day I’d had a little accident. Not a huge fill your drawers sort of accident, but one of those I thought it was just a fart sort of accidents. At any rate, my underwear was securely stowed away at the bottom of dirty rag can in the metal shop.

So there I stood… right in front of Jeannie Bowman with my shorts around my ankles and my pecker hanging out.

I was stunned. I just stood there frozen looking at Jeannie. Her mouth was agape and her eyes were wide as she fixated on my exposed genitals. What seemed like an eternity, probably only lasted a few seconds, but I was able to gathered my wits and reached down to pull up my shorts. That’s when old lady Ball Buns grabbed my arm and nearly jerked me off my feet.

Old lady Ball Buns was the head of the girl’s gym department. Her real name was Ms. Shopper, and at nearly 60 years old was the only weightlifting coach Jefferson’s football team had ever had. She was as strong as an ox, and her big muscular ass looked like she had stuffed a couple of basket balls into her shorts. That’s why everyone called her Ball Buns.

To go along with that big muscular ass, Ms. Shopper had a grip that was as strong as any man’s. The moment she grabbed me I tried to yank my arm away, but it was no use. With her vice like grip and that big muscular ass she was dragging me off to her office, and there wasn’t much I could do about it. Jeannie was tagging along by her side, just as old lady Ball Buns had ordered.

I resisted as much as I thought I could get away with, but Ball Buns had all the authority here. Even if I could have struggled loose, it wasn’t like I was going anywhere. Still I resisted like a protestor being hauled off to the paddy wagon. In reality all managed to do was drag my big clumsy feet on the floor while I tried to pull my shorts up using the arm that Ball Buns didn’t have a death grip on.

Being dragged off by Ms. Shopper with my shorts halfway down wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that both gyms instantly fell completely silent. Not a ball was bounced or a whistle blown, as two hundred of my fellow students watched me being marched across the gym with my hand covering my crotch and my ass hanging out.

Then I heard a raucous roar of laughter break out in the gym as Ms. Shopper’s office door slammed shut behind us. With the entire gym going nuts outside the office, and Jeannie just gawked at me while I pulled my shorts the rest of the way up. Ms. Shopper mumbled something about the lack of maturity these days and plopped her giant ass in her chair on the other side of her desk. Then the old battle axe went on the attack…

“Do you think you are cute mister Danielson?” Ms. Shopper scolded.

“Um, no Ms. Shopper. I don’t.” Holy fuck the old battle axe knew my name.

“What were you thinking exposing yourself to Miss Bowman like that?”

“I didn’t. I mean it wasn’t me. There were these…”

Ms. Shopper started to yell, not letting me finish my answer. “What do you mean you didn’t? Do you think I am blind? Or stupid? Or how about both?”

“No mam.” That’s not what I wanted to say, but it was the only thing that would come out of my mouth.

“I saw you with my own eyes. Miss Bowman here got quite the eyeful too. And where the hell are your underpants young man?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. She was asking questions way too fast. I didn’t know if I should tell her what I was thinking, which was how much I hated gym class… or if she wanted me to tell her I thought she was stupid, which I did. I damn sure wasn’t going to tell her I had crapped my pants, and my underwear were in the metal shop. At least not with Jeannie standing there.

“Sexual Harassment.” Ms. Shopper loudly stated as a matter of fact. “What you just did is a crime. We have zero tolerance for that here Mr. Danielson.”

What the hell? Where did she come up with that? I didn’t harass anyone. I didn’t do anything. I just wanted out of gym class. So I just stood there, still not quite sure how to defend myself.

“You know you are in big trouble young man. Miss Bowman is going to be pressing harassment charges against you.”

It was at that very moment Jeannie’s expression drastically changed. It looked to me as if the old battle axe had just ordered her to eat a bug. Still, neither Jeannie nor I said a thing.

“Fine. You two just sit tight while I find the number for campus security.” Ms. Shopper barked.

Ms. Shopper turned to her side desk and started rustling through some papers looking for her campus phone list. It was at that moment I saw Jeannie smile for the first time since the office Antalya Escort Bayan door slammed shut behind us. Her smile actually looked sort of devious, and she was looking right at me.

At that point a shiver of fear ran down my spine. Ms. Shopper was dialing the number to security and Jeannie was actually smiling about pressing those charges. My mind went crazy… What was going to happen to me now? Would I have to stand before a judge? Would I go to jail? What were my parents going to say? How could I ever show my face at school again?

Then while Ms. Shopper was busy talking on the phone, Jeannie leaned towards me and whispered, “I’m sorry about what those boys did to you.” Then she leaned back, pulled up her shirt and showed me her tits. That devious smile of hers then became a huge grin.

Jeannie snapped her shirt back in place just as Ms. Shopper finished talking with security. The grizzled old battle axe then held that phone out toward Jeannie and looked at her with the most sincere of looks, pausing as if Jeannie should have known exactly what to do.

“Well Miss Bowman, are you ready?”

Jeannie didn’t even turn her head. She just continued grinning at me and said nothing.

“Miss Bowman!” Ms. Shopper snapped. “Are you ready to press charges?”

“Nope, we’re good here.” Jeannie beamed. Then she just strolled out of the office as if nothing had happened. Still grinning from ear to ear.

“Well I’ll be dammed.” Ms. Shopper mumbled as she hung up the phone and shooed me out of her office.

She saved me. That was just like Jeannie. Kind and compassionate to a fault. She knew this wasn’t my fault. She knew that pressing charges would have been wrong. She had even eased my embarrassment by exposing herself to me, somehow making us even. Jeannie was amazing.

I didn’t go to the showers or change out of my gym clothes that day. I didn’t even go to the rest of my classes. I went straight home and pretty much hid in my room. Then for the next week I was able to convince my mother I was sick and couldn’t go to school. My faking sickness abruptly ended when mom took me to see Dr. Wolfson and he threatened to jab a giant needle full of penicillin into my ass. I had to tell my mom I’d been faking.

So there I was. Back in school just one short a week after the incident. Of course nearly everyone had heard what happened. People just stared at me wherever I went, even the teachers. Those that didn’t just stare taunted me. It also seems that during the week I was gone I was assigned a new name, and that name was Dorky Dickdangler. Now I wasn’t just another one of the dorks. I had officially become the class dork.

Being back at school with that sort of nickname really sucked, but there was some good news. I’d been permanently kicked out of gym class. They didn’t fail me either. They marked me with the lowest passing grade so I wouldn’t ever have to take gym again. That grade is a D-Minus if you are wondering.

That D-minus was fine with me. How could that ever hurt me? All I could see was the up side. This plan of theirs meant no more jocks, no more pretending to play dodgeball, and no more hiding behind the mats.

Even with never having to participate in gym again, I still desperately wanted to change schools. I wanted to finish my junior and senior year where no one knew me or what had happened. I would even have taken gym again if I could have started over with a clean slate.

Of course my parents would have none of that, so I stayed at Jefferson where everyone called me Dorky Dickdangler. Even the teachers called me Dorky. It was as if they thought it was my real name. And that fucking nickname didn’t go away when I became a senior.

Midway through my senior year I ditched my glasses for contact lenses, I quit letting my mother cut my hair, and I finally seemed to be done with that odd late growth spurt. My clothes finally fit for once, and I wasn’t clumsy and awkward anymore. I wasn’t nearly as dorky as before, but I couldn’t shake the nickname of Dorky Dickdangler or being called the class dork.

That entire senior year I’d see Jeannie walking down the hall and we would give each other a sly little smile, not a friendly nod or hello, just a smile. I hung out with my friends, and she… well of course she still ran the school. Everybody still loved Jeannie, and everyone seemed to hate me.

Then, at the very end of my senior year, the most unlikely of things happened. Jeannie and I were chosen to the prom king and queen. Of course Jeannie was the queen. That was a given. Her name might as well been the only one on the ballot. She won in a landslide.

So how on earth did I become the king? It was a lark, a joke, a prank. Whatever you want to call it, some smartass had added my name to the ballot. Well not my name exactly. The name on the ballot was of course, Dorky Dickdangler.

For two or three days, all I heard was my fellow students taking about the king and queen Escort Antalya elections. I didn’t know if the joke was supposed be on me, or if one Jeannie’s friends was teasing her about having me as her king, but either way it was a huge joke. But in the end the smartass’s plan backfired. I won by a single vote.

How ironic. Of all places, our Prom was held in the gym. The very place from which I had been permanently banned. But this time it was different. This time they had let me in. This time no drill sergeant coach or woman with the grip of steel was going to tell me what to do. This time, I was the king.

King or not, I still found myself wanting to hide during the prom. I wasn’t afraid of tripping or getting smacked by a ball, but I was uncomfortable and felt I didn’t belong there. Eventually I found myself hanging out in the corner over by the mats while everyone else had a good time.

When it came time to crown the king and queen, I wasn’t on stage where I belonged. I was standing in the very place where it all started, wondering how getting my pants yanked down could have led me to the point where I was about to be ridiculed again. I was pretty sure one my fellow students had put my name on the ballot so they could all laugh at me when the name Dorky was announced as the prom king.

It was Jeanie that finally came and found me. She gently took me by the hand and led me up on stage, and she didn’t let go of my hand until her name was called to receive her crown. Then after they had announced the rest of the court, it was my turn. As was the tradition. The King was always announced last. I held my breath, expecting the worst…

“And this year’s Jefferson High Prom King is none other than Morton Danielson.”

Hey, they used my real name, and I was pretty sure no one actually knew who that was. Morton was my given name. I had always gone by my middle name. But I wasn’t exactly expecting to be called Richard that night either. I was actually expecting them to announce their king as Dorky Dickdangler.

I was so taken aback that I almost didn’t step forward to accept my crown. The joke was on them. I was the king, and they didn’t get to taunt me. But there was still the dance. The one where the king and queen are alone together on the dance floor and everyone has to stand back and watch. That was next chance for everyone to taunt me.

I timidly held out my hand, and amazingly Jeannie smiled as she gladly placed her hand in mine. The song started and I led her to the middle of the dance floor where she put her hands on my shoulders and melted into me. I wrapped my arms around her waist and we started to dance as the entire class chanted, “Dork, Dork, Dork, Dork.”

Jeannie didn’t seem to care what was being said. She didn’t let that ruin the moment. She stayed right there and danced with me like there was no one else in the room. Then she pulled me even closer and laid her head on my shoulder. I had been an embarrassment to the entire school, but Jeannie didn’t seem to care. She didn’t mind one bit being seen with me.

When the class saw Jeannie holding me tight, their chanting slowly quieted down until it finally died out. Then we just danced. Holding each other close. Slowly swaying in time with the music. The soft warmth of her body gently rubbing against me, and the cooing softness of her breath echoing in my ear.

That special embrace lasted until the very end of the song, then Jeannie hugged me and softly whispered “thank you” into my ear. And just before she let her arms slide down from my shoulders, she tenderly kissed me on the cheek. That’s just the way she was. Sweet, kind, and compassionate to the very end.

With our dance over Jeannie went back to her prom date, and I found the nearest exit. I was done. I had fulfilled my duty of being crowned the king, and my reward was three minutes and twenty seconds of having Jeannie Bowman’s body pressed tightly against mine. At that point in my life I’d still never kissed a girl, but one dance with Jeannie was worth more than a hundred first kisses.

After the Prom I didn’t see Jeannie again. I wasn’t like I went looking for her, and I don’t think she was avoiding me. Our paths just didn’t happen to cross after that night. We both just seemed to drift off in different directions. It’s not like I would have had anything to say to her anyway.

The next fall I enrolled in the local community college. It seems a single D-minus on your transcript is all it takes to keep from being accepted at a four year college. As I completed my enrolment paperwork, I wondered where Jeannie was going to college. I could only assume that she was off to Harvard or Brown, or wherever else she may have wanted to go. I really had no idea. I just knew that wherever she went, it was only a matter of time before she would settle down and marry some amazingly handsome man.

The day I signed up for my junior college classes I actually looked for Jeannie. I was hoping I would see Jeannie there, but I didn’t. All I saw that day was scores of people I’d never seen before plowing through papers with lists of requirements they had to meet before they could transfer to a four year school. To my surprise, my list of requirements included one whole semester of PE.

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